Family Ties That Bind and Choke
by Jade Okelani
Summary: Luke and Lorelai have been together for a few months now, and things are going great. Until Emily invites them over for dinner, of course.


-8-

Family Ties That Bind and Choke

by Jade Okelani

-8-

There were very few things in this life Luke would say he actually hated. He was generally thought of as being cranky, pissy, and something of a curmudgeon. He was quick to temper and easily goaded into an argument, seemingly for the sake of arguing, but he didn't _hate_ things to their very marrow without a great deal of provocation, usually built up over his life. There were annoyances in his life, like his sister's husband, or Miss Patty making suggestive comments, and cleaning the fry vat late at night because Lane had a gig and Caesar was a wuss about grease. Then there was the outer crust of hate. Things like Taylor and large group events (usually together, which created a new level of hate) and people who didn't know there was a difference between baseball and softball fell into this category.

That left the inner circle. The big enchilada. There was nothing -- _nothing_ -- Luke hated more than meeting the parents of the woman he was in love with.

None of these meetings had ever gone well. He didn't impress parents; they were threatened by him and the very idea that he was talking to, sleeping with, and possibly impregnating their daughter at some unspecified date in the future. He owned a diner and scowled a lot. The predominant fixture in his wardrobe was a baseball (_not_ softball) hat given to him by Lorelai Gilmore as a thank-you present for driving her to the hospital after her father had a heart attack.

That, you would think, would earn him points, considering the firing squad he was going up against tonight were Lorelai Gilmore's parents. But the one thing he'd been paying very close attention to over the years was Lorelai, and when you paid attention to Lorelai, you couldn't help but notice the insane reaction she had to her parents. He'd met them before, of course; meeting them had been easy, considering he and Lorelai had been "just friends." Meeting Richard and Emily tonight, after having carnal relations (and it actually made him grimace a little, the idea that he'd taken to calling what they did together carnal relations, but it was a better alternative than the schmaltzy sticky sweetness that had been occurring to him of late) with Lorelai made him want to throw up.

Of course, as her many, many, many, many, _many_ vocal protestations had indicated, his nausea was nothing compared to how Lorelai felt, and if either of them was going to be throwing up, it would damn well be her.

"This is a bad idea. No one with the exception of you and my mother could possibly look at this situation and not see that it's a bad idea. George Custer would look at us preparing for tonight and say, 'I wouldn't, if I were you.'"

"You're bringing Custer into this?" he asked, attempting to knot his tie. "Don't you think dinner with your parents is slightly less extreme than the encounter at Little Big Horn?"

"Crazy talk like that just proves that you, my friend, have never _had_ dinner with my parents," Lorelai declared loftily. She sat on the end of her bed, fully clothed, makeup impeccable, swinging her nylon-encased legs back and forth like a bored child. A bored, hyper child, all hopped up on sugar. Which, Luke thought, wasn't an entirely inaccurate portrait. Or at least, one that wouldn't inspire carnal relations before they got through the night.

"_I'm_ crazy," he snorted, grimacing as the tie refused to cooperate. Luke hated ties. They might appear on the list, right below "meeting parents." It was no great coincidence that the two usually went together. Ties were 'special occasion' decorations, meant for getting married, or getting buried, or watching someone else get married or buried. They were not for eating dinner. But these were Lorelai's parents and he needed all the help he could get. Something told him Richard Gilmore didn't let young (or old, considering the way Luke felt most mornings) men sleeping with his daughter past the front door unless they were wearing ties.

"Don't feel bad, we're big on crazy here," she said.

"You and I are in this room together, and _I'm_ crazy," he clarified, dropping his hands away from the tie with a sigh of defeat.

"Only crazy people actually want to have dinner with my parents," Lorelai continued. She got up off the end of her bed and tied his tie so easily, it would have irritated him if he hadn't been so grateful.

"Your mother invited me," he said for the hundredth time. "I was supposed to say no?"

"Yes!" Lorelai said, as though it were completely obvious. "You say no when Emily Gilmore proposes something so fraught with things that could go terribly, irrevocably wrong!"

"It's dinner at your parent's house," he said. He'd had Lorelai's parents pegged about ten minutes after he met them. He knew they were fancy people who lived in a fancy house and liked fancy things. Luke was the opposite of fancy, but just for tonight, he'd try his best not to embarrass Lorelai or her parents. Assuming, of course, Lorelai ever let them leave the house.

"It's a death sentence," she said with grave seriousness, and not her mocking grave seriousness, either; this was actual honest-to-God graveness in her voice.

"It'll be fine," he said, though he was starting to believe himself less and less.

"Oh, Luke," she said, and she touched his cheek like he was going off to war and she knew the only contact they'd have in the future was the telegram that told her he'd been lost.

"You're cracked," he told her clearly, "and we're going to be late. Correct me if I'm wrong, but punctuality _does_ account for at least thirty percent of my grade, does it not?"

"I find your dedication to pleasing my parents annoying," she said, then smiled. "And a little cute." She smacked a kiss against his lips. "Do well and you may very well get lucky tonight."

He smiled, the first genuine smile he'd felt in hours. "And if I don't do well?"

She giggled a little. "You'll probably get luckier."

-8-

"Tell Luke this is a bad idea."

"Sorry, mom, you're on your own."

Lorelai gasped and feigned a scandalized expression. "Traitor."

"If you're going to be with Luke, he's going to have to deal with Grandma and Grandpa sooner or later," Rory said reasonably. Lorelai had no idea where she'd gotten her reasonable streak from; it certainly hadn't been her or Christopher.

"I'd just as soon it be later," Lorelai grumbled. "Ten minutes, twenty tops in there with Emily and Richard, and Luke's going to bolt and forget he ever entertained the notion of squiring that Gilmore girl around town."

"You know, I can actually hear you, though I am doing my best to ignore you," Luke grumbled from behind them.

Rory had driven to Hartford from Yale and met them at the big, imposing house Lorelai had never quite been able to think of as home. Lorelai had bounded down from Luke's truck to envelop Rory in a bear hug and after Rory spared Luke a cheerful 'Hi, Luke!', mother and daughter had been locked deep in conversation.

"We know, honey," Lorelai called out, then paused and look back at him. "Wow, that just came out. I can call you honey, can't I?"

"I wish you wouldn't, but when has that ever stopped you?"

"True enough," she threw over her shoulder. Though she was doing her best to do what was expected of her -- namely an unending stream of useless chatter -- Lorelai could actually feel her palms sweating. This was probably the first time she had ever brought a guy home for dinner that she wanted to keep. Part of her was actually afraid Luke would realize the cesspool of dysfunction she sprang forth from and run screaming into the night. When she'd voiced this concern aloud to Rory over the phone the previous night, Rory had put things as only Rory could.

"If your eating habits, coffee addiction, and general madness hasn't put him off by now, I don't really think Grandma and Grandpa have the power."

"You don't know," Lorelai had whispered, because she'd been having a panic attack in the bathroom while Luke asked if everything was okay from the other side of the door. "Maybe Emily Gilmore will be the last straw. Or maybe Dad will peel back his rubber face over dinner and reveal his true, evil identity."

"I thought this _was_ his true evil identity," Rory said, deadpan.

"Oooh, I have taught you well in the ways of the Force," Lorelai said with some approval. "However, this doesn't help me."

"I highly doubt Grandpa's going to peel his face back over dinner, Mom," Rory said. "And even if he did, Grandma would be so busy yelling at him she wouldn't have time to do anything to Luke."

"That's true," Lorelai said, feeling hopeful.

"That actually makes you feel better?" Rory sounded surprised.

"Babe, I'm sitting on the toilet and Luke probably thinks I have food poisoning or women troubles or something. Beggars can't be choosers."

"Go outside, tell Luke you're crazy, and beg him not to leave you," Rory advised.

Lorelai had taken her daughter's advice, as Rory often knew best in these situations, so long as she wasn't personally involved in them. The crazy part went without saying, but she had begged Luke not to leave her. He'd rolled his eyes and kissed her like he meant it and the rest of the night was something she would never, ever share in depth with Rory.

That didn't make getting through this night any easier.

"Just ring the bell," Luke said.

"It's okay, Mom," Rory added.

Lorelai raised her hand, then let it drop. "I can't do it. Let's just go. We'll say we had an accident. Or! Ooh! We'll roll Luke's truck off a cliff and fake our deaths. We can make a new life in California. I'll be Roxy and Luke can be Dirk and Rory, you can be Lola."

"I want to be Roxy," Rory objected. "It's closer to Rory, and Lola is closer to Lorelai."

"Ah, yes, my young one, but that's why they'll never suspect," Lorelai said wisely.

"I'll ring the damn bell," Luke grumbled, raising his hand to do so.

"Luke," Lorelai gasped. "How could you?"

The door opened before he could reply, to reveal Richard Gilmore wearing a business suit and an apron. Lorelai had flashbacks to the first Friday night dinner she and Rory attended post-separation.

"Ah," Richard said, "you're all here. Lovely. We've decided to barbecue, so we'll be eating outside." He made some kind of bizarre snapping gesture. "If you're going to do something, might as well do it all the way." He turned and walked away from the door, leaving them to their own devices.

"What fresh hell," Lorelai mumbled.

-8-

The patio was decorated with white twinkle lights and there was what appeared to be a pitcher of Margaritas on the table. Emily Gilmore was wearing jeans, and if Luke thought the sight shocked him, he had only to look at Lorelai's face to redefine the word shock.

"Mom," Lorelai said, "is that a tank top?"

Holy God, Luke hadn't even gotten to the tank top yet.

"Do you like it?" Emily said. "It's Anne Klein."

"Love it," Lorelai said quickly. "It's very Courtney Love."

"Who?" Emily asked.

"No one, Grandma," Rory said, and if Luke wasn't mistaken, she kicked Lorelai in the calf. "Just a singer."

"Yes, I'm sure," Emily said doubtfully, and Luke got the impression she knew she'd been insulted, but wasn't going to press matters at the moment. "We're having barbecue night," she went on.

"Dad told us," Lorelai said. "Forgive me for asking a stupid question, but was there some sort of drug dealer by earlier?"

"Our therapist recommended it," Richard said from his place in front of the barbecue where a little too much smoke seemed to be erupting from the top.

Luke remembered Lorelai weeping with laughter when she'd brought home that priceless nugget from the first Friday night dinner after her parents' reconciliation: they'd entered marital counseling in order to relate better to one another. So far, it seemed to be working miracles. They'd taken a trip to Tahiti, Richard was only working twenty hours a week, mostly in an advisory capacity, and they now hosted a weekly poker game on Saturday night with two other couples. Luke recalled he and Lorelai had been invited to that, as well, though Lorelai had always found a way of declining.

"Barbecue: it's the new Valium," Lorelai said.

"Yes, Lorelai, I do appreciate you making a joke of your father's and my attempt to save our marriage," Emily said.

"I wasn't--" Lorelai sighed. "Sorry, Mom." She sounded like a drone when she said it. Luke wrapped his arm around her waist and rubbed his thumb against the skin left bare by her crisscross dress. It seemed to help a little, because her shoulders straightened and she was able to force a smile.

"Hi Grandma," Rory said, sounding timid, and Luke wanted to hug her. He didn't, of course; not only had he never quite figured out how to hug Rory, but he wasn't even sure if she'd want him to. Come to think of it, not being sure if she wanted him to was probably why he'd never managed to figure out how.

"Oh, Rory, forgive me," Emily said, quickly crossing the patio to embrace her granddaughter.

"It's okay, Grandma," Rory said, hugging the older woman back. They'd spent two weeks in Europe together after That Night! and returned with cooler heads and softer hearts. Luke always thought of it as That Night! because that's the way Lorelai described it, going into detail about how the words should be capitalized with a huge exclamation point afterward, like a cheesy sci-fi movie, because so many things -- good and bad -- happened That Night!. It should have terrified him that he was starting to think in Lorelai, but it didn't.

"And Luke," Emily said, standing before him with her hand out. "Lovely of you to come."

"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Gilmore," he said, and he shook her hand between both of his, because that's how his mother taught him to shake a lady's hand. Even in blue jeans and a Courtney Love tank top, Emily Gilmore radiated Lady.

"Emily, please," she corrected. "Richard," she continued, turning away from Luke without another word, "what _are_ you doing to the steaks?"

"Grilling them, Emily," Richard said. "That is what one does, is it not?"

"Yes, Richard, that is what one is _supposed_ to do, I was just wondering what _you_ were doing?"

"Please, Emily, leave the grilling to the expert," Richard declared.

Emily stared at him, hands on hips for a minute, then turned back to them. "In that case, I would say we should leave it to Luke, shouldn't we?"

"Mom," Lorelai hissed.

"What?" Emily seemed genuinely confused, then let out an annoyed sigh. "Honestly, Lorelai, you're always so quick to paint me in an unfavorable light. Your friend owns a _diner_, does he not?"

"Yes," Lorelai bit out.

"Then I would assume he has had _some_ practice turning raw meat into dinner, has he not?"

"Yes," Lorelai said, sounding more resigned.

"Then it wouldn't be too insane a notion if I were to suggest that of everyone currently present, your friend Luke who owns the diner might be best equipped to--"

"Love to," Luke interrupted, already shrugging out of his jacket. He hung it over the back of one of the patio chairs that probably cost more than all the tables in his diner, then set about loosening his tie. "That is, if Mr. Gilmore doesn't mind the help." Luke wanted to get down on his knees and thank some far distant deity. Finally, this was something he could do, and do well; he knew how to cook. That had been the bedrock foundation of his adult life that had led him into his business, into his _life_, and he knew he was good at it, even if he was wearing clothing totally inappropriate to the purpose.

"If you can get this damnable grill to cooperate," Richard said, "then please, call me Richard."

Luke met Lorelai's gaze over the grill. There was smoke obscuring his vision, but he could see her standing there, giving him a hopeful smile, telling him she loved him with her eyes (even though she'd yet to say it with her mouth), and he thought: _Get the grill to cooperate? Hell, if she wanted, I could probably fly_.

God, he was starting to make himself sick. Also, he couldn't stop smiling. He'd really have to work on that. Combined with the wardrobe, it was probably kind of creepy.

-8-

Dinner was good. Better than good. They'd managed steaks, baked potatoes, corn on the cob, potato salad, and fresh peach pie, all without incident. Lorelai was eager to keep the evening on the same even keel, but Emily Gilmore wouldn't tolerate anyone leaving before every single person had finished, and damn Luke for still having half a piece of pie leftover.

"Are you gonna eat that?" Lorelai asked him.

They were scattered around the table in an order only Emily knew; Richard sat to Lorelai's right, Luke to her left; Emily sat next to Luke, and Rory between Emily and Richard.

Luke's pie stood alone.

"Correction," Luke said, "I _am_ eating that."

"Yes, but you're eating it in slow motion."

"I am eating at a perfectly acceptable pace," Luke said. "Your mother's still eating."

"She is not," Lorelai corrected. "She's been finished for ten minutes."

"I am not eating in slow motion."

"You're right. It's possible you might be eating in reverse at this point."

"Lorelai, leave the man alone," Emily said.

"Yes, leave the man alone," Luke muttered. "We don't all inhale our food."

Lorelai had a surreal moment. Her boyfriend was agreeing with her mother; her boyfriend even _sounded_ a little like her mother, and he was lecturing her about her fast she ate her food.

To say nothing of the weirdness factor inherent when she thought of _Luke_ as her _boyfriend_.

Rory and Richard started doing a crossword puzzle.

-8-

"You're quiet," Luke observed as they neared Stars Hollow. An exaggerated Scottish voice in his head added, _too quiet_, and he blamed Lorelai entirely.

"Just thinking," Lorelai said, and they slipped back into silence.

Luke grunted, but let the conversation drop. He'd never really been good at quiet conversation, anyway. Banter, yes, flirting, sometimes, ranting, his specialty; but meaningful conversation? Unless they were in the middle of a fight, Luke found it hard to express what he was thinking without sounding like an idiot, a jerk, or a combination of the two. Drawing Lorelai out when she was in a funk took the kind of finesse he wasn't sure he possessed; the few times he'd managed it in the past had been more an example of his having been in the right place at the right meltdown.

He was willing to go out on a limb: this had not been the worst dinner he'd ever had with a girl's parents. The downside? Lorelai didn't seem to be speaking to him, which, he had to admit, was new. There had been times in the past when he'd _tried_ to get her to give him the silent treatment, just to get a few precious moment's of peace.

Even as he thought it, he didn't really believe it. When they'd fought in the past -- and man, did they fight -- he'd never felt worse than when they weren't speaking. Whether he was being a bear or she was being a bitch, he always missed her and wanted to forget about whatever it was that made them so mad at each other. They usually did. The longest they'd ever gone without speaking was two months, and he'd always taken comfort in the fact that Lorelai really didn't seem to miss the coffee as much as she'd missed him.

The truck pulled up outside Lorelai's house. He put it in park, but left the engine running. He'd spent every night for the past week in Lorelai's bed, but he wondered if his luck wasn't about to run out. After all, things had gone _well_ tonight.

He expected Lorelai to make some excuse about needing her rest for an early day at the Dragonfly, or wanting to talk to Rory for awhile, or hell, that she was just plain too tired, but the last thing he expected was that she'd just sit there, staring at her house, completely silent.

So Luke stayed silent, too. After a few minutes, he turned off the ignition. He'd almost nodded off when she spoke.

"They like you," she said, and her voice was astounded.

"You think?" He couldn't help it. He was pleased. He didn't usually make a great first, second, or even third impression, and he'd certainly never been liked by parents before. Hell, his own parents had barely liked him.

"What? Of course," she said. "They liked you. My mother whispered something about a summer wedding to me on the way out." She laughed, the sound high pitched. "At least she's given up on the Romanovs."

Luke sat very still for a moment, and tried to figure out how he felt about a summer wedding. He figured he was in a lot of trouble when the only negative reaction he could dredge up was how hot it would be.

"I'm going to carry a ketchup dispenser down the aisle," Lorelai went on. "I can't believe she was right. I can't believe she saw it and I didn't. Luke, do you have any idea what this means?" She was finally looking at him, and he was a little afraid.

"No," he said slowly.

"My mother likes you," she repeated. "She approves of you. She knew I was in love with you before I did."

"You're in love with me?" It was the stupidest thing he could have possibly said, and it just came out. Another thing he blamed on Lorelai: total diarrhea of the mouth. It was the world's most communicable disease.

"Of course I'm in love with you," she said, as though it were just that obvious. Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, I've never told you I'm in love with you."

"Well," he said eloquently.

"Luke, of course I love you. I--" She sighed. "That's not the point."

"It's not?" he asked helplessly.

"No." And now she was laughing a little, quietly to herself. "The whole point is that my mother loves you and it doesn't matter to me. She could hate you and it wouldn't matter to me. You are no more or less desirable to me based on my mother's opinion. Being with you, being in love with you makes her right and I don't _care_."

"Okay," he said slowly. He let that sink it. Or at least, he tried to. He had gotten pretty good at speaking and thinking in Lorelai over the years, but even experts sometimes hit a wall. Considering the potential importance of the conversation, he didn't think a little confusion on his part was undeserved. "And that's a good thing?"

She smiled, the sort of real smile he thought of as a Lorelai Smile; sad and so beautiful it made him want to cry, assuming he cried at anything but Rory's graduation speeches. "That's a good thing."

"Good," he said. He wanted to leave it at that, pretending he understood, but he got the impression this was a big deal, and he wanted to _really_ understand. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"It means you're a keeper, baby," she said, and she unbuckled her seatbelt, slid across the seat, and kissed him like she meant it. He slid his arm around her back and pulled her closer until she was practically in his lap. He hated that they were inside the cramped confines of his truck. "It means I'm going to let my mother plan a summer wedding," she whispered against his mouth, "because I'll be too happy to care that she's getting her way." Her hand slid between their bodies and undid his seatbelt, pausing to investigate a few areas he'd rather she not investigate until they were behind closed doors.

"Get in the house," he growled against her mouth, and she made a scandalized squeal as she slipped out the passenger side door. He walked around the truck and laughed when she pretended to run away. He caught her easily and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

"Caught me," she said in an affected voice.

"Caught you," he confirmed, and they half-walked, half-waddled toward the door, because he didn't feel like letting her go. "You know," he said for the sake of his pride, "I haven't actually asked you yet."

"I know."

"To marry me," he clarified.

"I know," she repeated.

He supposed he ought to get used to this. "I will."

She turned her head and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I know."

They made their way into the house.

Lorelai grabbed a phone to go call Rory.

Luke went back out to his truck so he could get the ring out of the glove compartment.

No time like the present; after all, he was already wearing the tie.

-8-

--end--


End file.
